You're My Probie
by Smackalicious
Summary: Tony's always had nicknames for McGee. What's so different about this one? Written with CJ aka WritinginCT. McNozzo. Definite slash. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Title: You're My Probie  
Author: CJ aka WritinginCT & Smackalicious  
Fandom: NCIS  
Pairing: DiNozzo/McGee  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: Slash  
Categories: First Time, Humor  
Feedback: Love it? Hate it?  
Disclaimer: I don't own the recognizable characters; I'm just inspired by them. Hopefully they've had fun playing in my sandbox.  
Summary: Tony's always had nicknames for McGee. What's so different about this one?  
Status: In-progress. 5 chapters completed, the 5th of which you can find on a few other websites, but not this one. [Includes graphic sexual exploits. Will give a list of locations when it comes time for that chapter to appear.**

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**Chapter One**

A cold icy day in January in the Washington, D.C. area was not particularly conducive to agents enjoying driving two hours to follow up on a lead that was a bust. Especially when the weather reports were predicting a nor'easterner to blow through and dump a foot and a half of snow during their return trip home.

Tony glanced over at his companion in the passenger seat, secretly glad that if he had to be stuck driving at a snail's pace in a blizzard, at least he had the one member of the team with him he found himself most wanting to spend time with lately – McGee.

In the years he had known McGee, he had watched the guy go from being a bumbling newbie to becoming someone Tony trusted and relied on, and he was much more self-confident and comfortable in his own skin than he had ever been. In the months that Gibbs had been in Mexico and Tony had run the team, he had come to respect, depend on, and even admire McGee. And more recently he had just, well, been really _aware_ of Tim. And that was something he hadn't let happen in a very long time. Tony normally kept those particular thoughts and urges under lock and key, but every once in awhile they would sneak out on him when he met a guy that he was particularly attracted to. Lately he had had such a hard time keeping those thoughts and urges buttoned up in the closet in his mind whenever he was around Timothy. And he was always Timothy in Tony's little fantasies, not Tim or McGee, and never Probie. If he didn't do something about them soon, he was going to end up doing something really stupid, like, say, kissing Timothy in the middle of bullpen or something equally idiotic.

McGee was fiddling with his PDA, rechecking the new directions they had gotten. The main highway was closed due to an enormous accident, so they had taken some back roads hoping to avoid the traffic and beat the storm home; driving into it wouldn't be any fun.

"We still on track, Probie?" Tony asked lightly.

McGee furrowed his brow at the device in his hand. "I don't know. We seem to be a bit off the beaten path." He looked up at Tony, frowning. "Literally."

Leave it up to Tony to get them lost in the middle of a snowstorm. But if there was one person McGee wanted to be stuck with, he was glad it was Tony. As much as the older agent ragged on him, he knew it was all in good fun, and hell, Tony wasn't nearly as dangerous as Ziva or Gibbs, so the chances of him making it out of the storm alive were even better.

McGee realized he had been staring at Tony the entire course of his thoughts and quickly turned back to his PDA, blushing. Damn. Tony sure had a way of distracting him. He was never quite sure what it was, either - his playboy smile, the smooth way he talked, or just how tight those pants from the other day fit him . . .

McGee shook his head free of the errant thought and scowled to himself. This was Tony. Sure, he wanted him, but he knew how stubborn the man was. Tony would want to be in charge, and McGee wanted no part in that.

He looked back over to the object of his thoughts. He needed to say something else before Tony asked him what he was thinking about.

"You do realize we're not even on a road right now, right?"

"Gimme that thing," Tony groused, and snatched at the PDA in McGee's hand. "How can we not be on a road? I'm driving here, Probie."

"Tony," McGee groaned, reaching to grab his prized assistant from Tony's grasp, and ending up with his hand on Tony's crotch instead. He blushed, quickly removing his hand from the other man's lap, while Tony smirked. "I think I know how to read my own PDA."

Tony glanced down at his crotch, then over to McGee, and quipped, "I'm pretty sure that would be considered red-light behavior if we were at the office." When McGee just pursed his lips and grimaced in embarassment, Tony added with a little suggestive wag of his eyebrow, "Guess it's a good thing we're not at the office, huh, Probie?"

McGee rolled his eyes, turning his gaze outside to the falling snow. "You know, Tony, this is the precise reason I hate driving with you."

"What's that supposed to mean? You'd rather drive with Gibbs, Probie?"

McGee looked back over to Tony. "What? No. No, I wouldn't rather drive with Gibbs. I mean, if it were a choice between his driving and Ziva's, sure, but . . ."

"But you still hate driving with me. Any particular reason, Probie?" The snow was really starting to come down and the wipers were battling unsuccessfully to keep up with it, while the dim light of the headlights barely showed them two car lengths ahead on the narrow road.

McGee gave a concerned look to the road ahead and answered Tony offhandedly. There were more important things to be doing than arguing with Tony about something as stupid as who he preferred to be driving with. "No, Tony, I don't hate driving with you. I just . . . You're always so degrading to me, Tony. Do you really think I'm just going to put up with it?"

For some reason that annoyed Tony. He knew he teased and hazed McGee unmercifully but degrade him? Not. The teasing and locker room mentality actions were the only way Tony could show McGee any affection at all without simply pinning him to a wall and sucking his tonsils out, which he just couldn't do for obvious reasons. "You're my Probie. I'm supposed to torment you. Someday you'll have your own probie to torment. But I don't degrade you, Timothy. Far from it, actually."

Tony's eyes flew open wide when he heard himself call him Timothy outloud. He gulped nervously and wondered if the irritated man next to him had even noticed.

McGee continued to sulk in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant toddler. He was just so goddamn mad that he, the responsible one, had gotten stuck with Tony. He should be the one driving, anyway. They never would have gotten in this mess to begin with if he had been . . .

Wait. Tony didn't degrade him. "Far from it," he had said. What did that mean?

And then there was that other thing.

McGee uncrossed his arms and gave Tony a sidelong look. "Did you just call me Timothy?"

Tony decided to ignore the question and deflect. "Wow, it's really coming down out there, can barely make out the road. Think we'll be back in time to catch the game?"

McGee turned fully to face Tony now. "I'm not going to any game until you answer me. Why'd you call me by my full name, Tony? I thought I was 'your Probie.'"

The wheels where spinning in Tony's mind, trying to figure a way to weasel his way out of the mess he had just mired himself in, knowing full well that McGee was not going to just drop the matter gracefully. "It is one of your names, isn't it? Right along with Elf Lord and Thom."

Unfortunately, the wheels in Tony's head weren't the only ones spinning, as the car violently fishtailed over a large patch of ice and snow. Tony's quick reflexes kept the car on the narrow road, but it was clear the driving was getting even more treacherous.

"Whoa!" McGee exclaimed softly, throwing his hands out to brace himself on the dashboard. "Maybe we should just focus on getting out of here first, and then we can argue."

He really was curious about why Tony had called him Timothy, and for some reason, Tony's explanation of it "just being one of his names" didn't gel with him. There was something hinky going on with Tony and he wanted to find out what it was, but he wasn't willing to die for it.

He looked to the older agent and saw a flash of something in his eyes - relief, perhaps. He shook his head slightly. They'd deal with this later.

Keeping his eyes on the road, Tony swallowed hard, thankful McGee had decided to drop his line of inquiry. "Yeah. What's that thing say? Are we close to any of the main roads? They've got to be better than this one. We gotta stop for a minute and clean off the wipers and the windshield. I can barely see."

McGee nodded abruptly. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. It's coming down pretty hard out there." He was glad Tony had suggested stopping; now maybe he could take over driving while Tony cleaned off the windshield.

They were another twenty miles from the next major roadway, and neither man was looking forward to twenty more miles of narrow, blizzard encrusted back roads, but there was nothing they could do. Instead of pulling the car over - there really was no point on the empty road - Tony just carefully brought the car to a gentle stop. He looked outside distastefully and turned to McGee. "Well, the quicker we get the windows and the wipers cleaned off, the quicker we're back in here where it's warm."

McGee nodded and they both climbed out and started clearing off the snow and ice. They worked simultaneously on the front window and wipers and when they finished, Tim started on the iced over headlights while Tony went to take care of the rear window. The wind was howling and the icy snow coming down was pelting them from all directions. Tony cleared off the driver's side portion of the rear window and was making his way to the other side when his foot hit a patch of ice under the snow and his leg twisted obscenely, torturing his bad knee. With a shout of pain, he hit the ground, holding his screaming leg.

McGee's head shot up from his position at the front of the car. "Tony?" he called out, worried that the older agent wouldn't respond. He couldn't see him; the snow was falling too heavily and gusting in his face.

He bit his lip. He knew he had to get around the car to help Tony, but he didn't want to risk hurting himself. Plus, there was the whole thing of Tony being injured. He hated seeing Tony in pain. Because, for as much as Tony hassled him, McGee cared about him and didn't want to see him hurt.

He let out a sigh and traversed the side of the car, holding on to the vehicle to insure safe travel, and began the search for Tony, when his foot hit something.

His voice was no more than a frightened whisper when it finally came out. "Tony?"

"Down here, Probie," Tony hissed through clenched teeth. "I slipped and blew my freakin' knee out again. Looks like you're driving."

McGee let out the breath he had been holding. "Well, at least you're not dead." He gave a nervous chuckle.

He offered Tony a hand up, who just had to quip, "Lucky for you; do you know how much paperwork that would mean, Probie?" McGee's hold on him was strong and confident, and he felt oddly secure in the feeling that McGee wouldn't let him fall on his ass. The two men did a sort of hop-shuffle to the passenger door and McGee helped him get situated inside with a groan and a curse or two from Tony's end, neither aimed at Timothy.

McGee shut the door gently on Tony and took his time walking back around the car. At least he'd get to drive now. He tried to take comfort in the fact that he could possibly navigate them out of this storm with his PDA handy, but that knowledge didn't lessen his worry any. Tony was hurt, so if something happened where they'd get stuck, he'd be the only one able to get them out.

He sighed and opened the driver's door, his decision made. Plopping into the seat, he shut the door and turned to Tony. "How about we just wait the storm out?"

The pain was plainly evident on Tony's face, but he tried to humor his way through it. "Are you kidding? If we stay here they won't find us till spring." He clapped Timothy on the shoulder and gave it a squeeze of support and said seriously, "I have faith in you, McGee; it's only twenty miles till the main road." He reached down and pushed the seat as far back as it would go to give his leg room to stretch straight out. The agony that shot through his knee made him close his eyes and beat his head on the headrest.

McGee frowned to himself. Tony was making things difficult - as usual - and he _really_ didn't want to drive in this weather. But it was either that or, like Tony said, wait for their bodies to freeze to death if they hung around here.

He sighed, turning on the ignition. "You win. But if we get lost again, it's your fault."

Tony kept his eyes closed but teased, "Yeah, well, I guess then in ten thousand years, the aliens from Spielberg's A.I. will chip us out of the ice. You're as cute as that kid - maybe they'll fix it so you can tell Gibbs how we managed to die in a snowbank, Probie."

McGee shook his head. Leave it up to Tony to bring a movie reference into the mix. He wouldn't be Tony if he didn't. He smiled despite himself. "Gibbs _would_ be alive in ten thousand years, too. He's too stubborn to die." He laughed a bit, but all he could think was, _Did Tony just say I was cute?_ He shook the thought from his head. Later. They'd figure things out later.

Tony chuckled. "It's all the coffee. It'll keep him well-preserved. Onward, Probie, let's get home so I can weasel some good painkillers out of Ducky."

He put his head back on the headrest and hoped McGee didn't see how much he was gritting his teeth. Partly because of the pain, partly because he needed to keep his mouth shut and not let anything else stupid slip out. He couldn't believe he called Timothy cute to his face.

McGee pressed down on the gas pedal, gently guiding the car through the mounds of snow. It was going well - slow, but well - until he realized . . .

"Oh, shit," he muttered, causing Tony to rise slightly in his seat. He looked over at the other man, swallowing hard. "I can't see where we're going."

Tony opened his eyes and quickly yelled, "TREE! Hard left, NOW!"

McGee tried to swerve the car back on the road but the slick conditions exagerated his adjustment. The car, acting like it had a mind all its own, made its way all the way over to the left side of the road, where it slid quickly down the six food ditch to come to a stop at the bottom. When the wild ride was over and Tony could breathe again, he demanded in concern, "Are you okay?"

McGee let out a shaky breath and nodded slightly. "I think so." He gave Tony a concerned look. "Are you?"

"Yeah. But I don't think we're getting the car out of here on our own." He pulled out his cell and went to dial. "Dammit, no signal. You getting anything?"

McGee took out his own phone. "Nope." He sighed. "Looks like we're gonna be stuck here for awhile."

Tony scrubbed his face with his hands. It was going to be a long night. He cast a sideways glance at the driver's seat and caught something on McGee's face, like embarrassment or something. Was McGee expecting him to harass him about the accident? He felt bad for a moment; the situation was not Timothy's fault and he hated to see him blame himself like that. He turned to face him and said softly, "It's not your fault, you know."

McGee looked up from where he had been studying his lap upon hearing Tony's words. Tony was being . . . nice. And sure, Tony could be nice, but the accident . . . He should have seen that tree. He let out a sigh. "That's really nice of you, Tony, but I should have been able to see that tree and . . ."

"Give it up, Probie. It's a blizzard. Coulda happened to anyone. Maybe we'll get lucky and someone will come along." Or not, Tony thought, and we'll just have to huddle together for warmth. He butted his head against the headrest again, trying to dispel that line of thinking from his brain. But he flashed briefly instead on the thought that maybe this was the perfect opportunity to have the talk with Timothy. Maybe it was time to just lay it all on the line while they were stuck in the car together with no one breathing down their necks, nowhere they had to be, and nowhere they could go.

McGee didn't say anything, just studied Tony in silence. They were stuck out here. He didn't care what Tony said - they were stuck. And he, well, he was scared. He really didn't want to die. Gibbs knew the general proximity of where they were, but who knows how long it would take him to find their exact location. By that time, it could be too late.

"Tony," he said softly, causing him to turn his head toward him. "What are we going to do?"

Tony got a worried look on his face upon hearing the little catch in McGee's voice and said softly, "Hey, we'll be alright. We loaded up with junk food when we got gas, and this storm's not gonna last forever. When we don't check in, Gibbs'll have Abby find our GPS and they'll send the cavalry for us. We're at best stuck here until morning. And right now I'm gonna take about four ibuprofen from my stash in my kit and hope it takes the edge off my knee." He wanted to try and make Timothy smile, or at least smirk, so he pulled out one of his best comical voices and teased, "Now turn that frown upside down. You could be stuck here with Gibbs."

McGee smirked. "Yeah, and then I _know_ I'd be dead." He allowed a brief smile to pass over his face. He chanced reaching over and patting Tony's shoulder - an action he wouldn't normally do, but considering the circumstances . . . it seemed appropriate. "You know, Tony, I think we'll be okay."

"That's the spirit, Timothy," Tony said, as he reached up and gave the hand on his shoulder a little squeeze. Feeling McGee tense under his hand, he quickly made a show of grabbing his knapsack out of the backseat and fishing through it for his ibuprofen. But his hand tingled where he had touched Timothy - there had almost been an electric current passed between them in that too brief moment.

McGee turned to the window, allowing his breath to steam the windows. Tony had called him Timothy again. He wasn't ignorant enough or distracted enough to miss that. And then there was that feeling, that niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach, from when Tony had grasped his hand . . . What did it mean?

He gulped and turned to face Tony again, who had found his ibuprofen and was currently lounging against the car seat once more, eyes closed. He needed to put a stop to this. It might make things awkward for however long they were stuck out there, but then again, it was a rare occasion when he didn't feel awkward, so he wasn't losing too much. He swallowed again and opened his mouth to speak.

"Tony - do you like me?"

Tony kept his eyes closed and his face stony, giving away nothing. In reality, all he wanted to do was launch himself at Timothy and let his tongue show Timothy just _how_ much he liked him. It was do or die time. "Well, let's see, Timothy, there are many way to like someone. If you mean do I like you as a co-worker, then yes, we have our moments of disagreement, but overall the co-worker thing is good. If you mean like you as a buddy, someone to have a beer with and watch a game, then yes, we're good on that score, too. But if you mean like you as someone I want to wine and dine and make love with and wake up to for the next fifty years, then no, we're not good." He heard Timothy's sharp intake of breath and he very slowly and deliberately turned to face him, his eyes locking with Timothy's as he continued. "Because although I want that so badly it hurts to think about it, it's a moot point since you don't like me that way, Timothy."

McGee just about passed out, that was how much he wasn't expecting that. His thoughts, any words he wanted to say, the verbose declaration of want and need, they were all stuck in the base of his throat, and what came out was a simple, "But Tony . . . I do . . ."

Tony's heart was beating so fast he would swear that he could feel it slamming into his ribs, his poor brain trying to process everything. He reached over and placed his hand on Timothy's cheek and ran his thumb gently over his bottom lip. He squinted at Timothy in a classic DiNozzo expression and asked hesitantly, "You do?"

McGee grinned broadly. This was starting to feel like a teenage crush, some pubescent fantasy . . . But it was real. Tony wanted him. And he could have him. He placed a hand over the hand currently caressing his face. "I do."

"You do?"

"I do."

Tony leaned in close enough for them to share breath, his eyes never leaving Timothy's, and teased, "So how about some more red-light behavior, then?" right before he kissed him. His firm lips met McGee's and he poured all his expertise into it. He slipped his hand around Timothy's nape to pull him closer and Tony was practically purring when he felt Timothy's lips part, giving him entrance to something he had been fantasizing about for so long. There were little whimpers echoing through the car and it was impossible to determine which man made them. Their tongues battled and they learned the taste of each other, and when they finally broke for air with their foreheads resting together and their eyes closed, Tony just whispered, "Wow."

"Yeah. Wow." McGee allowed his eyes to flicker open, to take in Tony's glorious face. He cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed or awkward or . . . something. "Tony?" The older man opened his eyes and met his gaze. "I really really want to do that again."

A smile - the likes of which McGee had never seen - crossed Tony's face, and he teased, "I think I can arrange that." Tony's body was still reeling from the first kiss - he had never, in his entire life, had a first kiss like that. It had just been . . . perfect. And he wondered, as his lips found Timothy's, if they were just going to get better. A few oxygen deprived minutes later, he had his answer, in the affirmative. His body was practically vibrating with wanting to jump Timothy, but the particular situation they found themselves in was _not_ one of Tony's fantasy scenarios.

As he tried to calm his breathing and his body, he said a little breathlessly, "As good as that is, I think we better, um, cool off a minute. Cause the first time we go any further than this, it's not gonna be in the front seat of a car stuck in blizzard. It's gonna involve dinner, a bottle of wine, and the twelve-hundred thread count Egyptian cotton sheets on my king sized bed."

_to be continued . . . _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

McGee nodded quickly, suddenly reverting back to his classic ways. "Yeah, uh, yeah, it would probably be just a little awkward to do . . . _it_ in a car. Not that I'm thinking about doing . . . _it_ with you. Not that I wouldn't be thinking of it." He saw the look on Tony's face and stopped talking. "I'm just gonna shut up now."

Tony's bemused expression wasn't helping Timothy's awkwardness at all; finally taking pity on Timothy, he just pulled him into a tight hug and whispered in his ear in a voice filled with humor, "God, you're cute when you're flustered. I hope you've been thinking about it because I sure have been. A lot."

McGee felt his face burn. "Wow. Well, I guess I have." Tony pulled away a bit and gave him a dubious look. "Okay, yeah, I have been. But I didn't want to say anything. Whole rule 12 and everything." Tony continued with the look. "But I guess it's okay to admit to now that we've . . . admitted to it?" Tony smiled at him. "Right." He smiled himself. "You think I'm cute?"

Tony teased lightly. "If I say yes, you're not going to run around like Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, are you? You know, that whole 'she thinks I'm cute' scene? Cause that's so junior high, Timothy. And we're at least at the high school senior level, don't you think?"

McGee had always wanted to be able to shut Tony up, and he now knew how. He simply grabbed Tony and plastered his lips to his. But McGee was wrong; it didn't really shut Tony up. Oh, sure, it kept him from talking, but Tony's eyes never stopped twinkling in humor and he knew the minute they came up for air, Tony would tease him again.

When Timothy finally let him go, Tony was flushed and his breathing heavy and erratic. He tried to nonchalantly tug on his pants to give himself a little room but it didn't work well. He laughed at himself and said, "Oh, yeah. We're definitely seniors in high school. It's when I lost my virginity the first time. Seems fitting that I would be a senior all over again when I'm finally ready to lose my other virginity."

McGee's eyes widened. "You've never been with another man before?" The thought surprised him. He assumed Tony was experienced in every area possible when it came to sex, and to hear that he was still a "virgin" in one area, well . . . it made him feel a little more comfortable.

Tony opened his mouth to give a response, but McGee quickly stepped in again, silencing him. "Well, then, we'll both be newcomers."

Before Tony could respond, the car chose that moment to stall. McGee quickly tried to turn the engine back over but it just wouldn't cooperate. He looked at the gauges and realized why the car wouldn't start and dropped his head to the steering wheel and groaned. Tony looked at him, confused, and said, "We can't be out of gas; you filled when we got munchies."

McGee simply stared at him. "I thought _you_ filled the tank. I was in the bathroom, remember?"

Tony's voice hitched up a notch. "Um, nnnooooo, I was in charge of the coffees and junk food, you were in charge of the gas. This is so not good, Probie."

McGee let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Well, we're going to have to think of something. We can't walk out of here because of your knee. I guess we're just going to have to hope Gibbs realizes we're lost before it's too late. Until then, all we can do is sit and wait."

It was one thing to be stuck in a car with Timothy all night when they could run the car and keep warm, but the thought of being stuck out in a blizzard with no heat and no guaranteed rescue coming made Tony a little wild eyed and hysterical around the edges. "We're gonna freeze to death, Timothy."

McGee swallowed hard, trying to remain calm for both their sakes - the last thing they needed right now was him to be freaked out. He already could see that Tony was in freak out mode. "No," he finally said, ignoring Tony's chattering teeth - the man couldn't be more of a drama queen, he swore, "no, we'll just have to use body heat to keep warm."

"We're gonna get pneumonia. I'm gonna die. I have bad lungs, you know, from the plague. I can't get cold and wet. Ducky's gonna kill me if I die from pneumonia." Tony's mind had shifted entirely into panic mode and his mouth was just going a mile a minute.

McGee shifted in his seat and placed the tip of a finger over Tony's lips to stop his babble. The older man's panicked eyes met McGee's calming ones, as McGee soothed him. "Hey, hey, we're going to be okay. We have to be." He gave Tony a small smile. "I don't want to miss out on those twelve hundred count sheets."

"You don't? I mean, you don't. I'm babbling, aren't I?

McGee gave him another small smile, placing his hands on Tony's cheeks."Tony? Please shut up."

Tony smirked and teased lightly, "Aren't you bossy for a Probie?"

McGee shook his head. At least Tony was returning to some semblance of his normal self. "I figured you wouldn't mind, considering that I'm _your_ probie."

"So you don't mind being the _probie_ in this relationship?"

"I thought we agreed we were _both_ probies when it came to this sort of thing."

"Well...technically, I think the better term would be newbies. Probie in this connotation conjures up visions of something else entirely."

McGee raised an eyebrow. "Anyone ever tell you you have an incredibly dirty mind, Tony?"

"Hey, no one's ever complained about my dirty mind before. Well, okay, Kate did, but she doesn't count. I'm just saying that there are probies and probers in a thing...you know...like...what we want to do." Tony stammered out, oddly embarassed by the topic.

McGee noticed Tony's babbling and held back a smirk. Was it possible that Tony was embarrassed? Oh, he could work with this.

"Well, if you want _me_ to be the probie, then I guess that means _you_ want to be the prober," McGee started, watching as Tony's facial expression changed to something like humiliation. "But you know what, Tony? I don't think I like that idea." He leaned in close to the other man, mouth inches from Tony's. "I've been a probie too long. I want to know how it feels to be in control."

Tony gulped hard. Timothy's tone of voice and the images of what he had just said shot a bolt of lust right through him, and he tried yet again to unsuccessfully adjust his pants to relieve a little of the stress. His brain tried to engage and come up with a witty retort, but nothing would come to him. He wondered if he should admit to Timothy that in all of his little fantasies, Timothy had _always_ been the one in control. He knew his face must be glowing red in embarrassment - it was one thing to think about having sex with another man, but it was altogether different to actually talk about it. "You do?"

McGee nodded slowly, his tongue snaking out to wet his lips. His heart was pounding in his chest at the idea of holding Tony down and stripping those pants right off the man. If they didn't get out of here soon, McGee knew he was going to end up doing just that. "Yeah, Tony," he finally spoke, words laced with lust. "I want to see just how submissive you can be."

"Um, Timothy?" Tony cleared his throat, trying to bring some sense of normal back into the car, since it obviously had slipped into the realm of the surreal when it slid down the embankment. "We really need to table this ah, conversation till we get out of here. Because wet, sticky boxers are not my idea of fun while we're stuck in a blizzard in a car with no heat."

McGee blinked, returning to his normal self. That was weird. He normally didn't get all alpha male. Ever. "Uh, right. Not mine, either." He looked around, searching for something to change the subject. Nothing was keeping his mind out of the gutter at this point. He sighed and settled for a lame, "Are you getting cold yet?"

Tony's eyes flashed with humor, the comeback out of his mouth before he could stop it. "Why? Offering to warm me up?"

He saw Timothy drop his chin with his eyes closed, just shaking his head in exasperation at Tony. He broke the quiet by back pedaling. "Sorry, Timothy, mouth got ahead of me again. I just can't think of anything today that isn't a double entendre. But to answer your question, the temperature in here is starting to drop, which is really not gonna do wonders for my knee in a while."

McGee nodded. They had to think of survival here, not sex. That could wait. "Do we have blankets? Extra clothes? Anything that's not wet?" He closed his eyes and bit his lip at the innuendo. Damnit. Keeping his mind off sex was going to be really hard.

"There should be one of Gibbs' standard issue wool blankets in the trunk. I didn't pack any extra clothes this trip - it wasn't supposed to be an overnighter. You?"

"Nope. I assumed we'd be back in D.C. by this point." He turned away, looking out the window, and muttered to himself. "And we would have been, had I been driving."

Tony's eyes narrowed. "Are you _trying_ to pick a fight, Probie?"

McGee sighed. "No, forget it, Tony. I'm sorry. We have to focus our energy on getting out of here, staying alive, not fighting about petty things." Tony continued to glare at him. "I said I'm sorry! What else do you want?"

Tony took a deep breath, and said quietly in a thoughtful tone as he looked down at his hands, "You don't think we're gonna fight all the time, do you, Timothy?" Tony had lived that growing up, with two people that spat nasty, sarcastic remarks at each other all the time, each of them competing to dig the barbs in deeper. He had made himself a vow a long time ago that he would never be in a relationship like that. Teasing and bickering were part of life, but he had no desire to live out the death of a thousand cuts with anyone, not even Timothy.

The snarl that had been on McGee's face melted away as he heard Tony's words. He swallowed, searching for the right words. "No, Tony, I don't want to fight." He chuckled softly to himself, trying to lighten the mood. "Give peace a chance." When Tony didn't even crack a smile, he let his laugh fade away, sighing again, and reached for Tony's hand, the older man finally looking his way. "We're gonna make this work, Tony. We have to."

"I just..." Tony started to say, then stopped. He turned away and looked out the fogged up, snow crusted window. He reached up and drew a squiggle in the condensation with his free hand, gently squeezing back on Timothy's with the other.

McGee sensed that whatever Tony had started to say was important, and held his tongue, giving Tony time to put together his words.

"You wanna know the real reason I've never dated anyone more than a couple weeks? I'll tell ya. See, my parents would snipe at each other all the time. Just constantly, and they'd do it with a smile on their faces. They knew just what to say to hurt each other the most. I never wanted to be like them. And the reason I never got close to anyone is because I never wanted anyone to really get in my head and be able to know just what to throw back at me like that." He turned to face Timothy. "And what scares me is that I've really wanted to let you in for so long. But my self defense instincts keep kicking in and my stupid mouth runs." He looked down at their joined hands. "I just don't want us to be them."

McGee swore he could feel his heart fall into his shoes. "I don't . . . " he started, then gathered his words and started again. "We won't be that. You're not that mean-spirited, Tony, and I know you'd feel incredibly guilty saying even half the things I'm sure they said." He grimaced. He hadn't meant to accuse Tony's parents of being bad people . . .

"Tony, look at me." Tony looked up from their joined hands, and it took everything McGee had to keep talking after seeing the look on his face - that look of complete and utter hopelessness. "You can't possibly, _possibly_ think our relationship would ever get to that point. I . . ." he took a breath and continued before he lost his nerve, "I care way too much about you to let that happen."

The wind howling outside, beating ice crystals onto the windshield, was the only sound until Tony asked quietly, "Promise?"

McGee replied simply, "Promise."

"I'm gonna hold you to that, Timothy," he said in a tone much lighter than it had been in the past few tense minutes. Without letting go of Timothy's hand, he tried to shift his position a little, his knee getting cold and stiff. He found himself shifting towards the middle, where he met up with Timothy's strong shoulder. Giving into the urge, he leaned on it, wincing as he straigtened his leg out. Wanting to be distracted, he asked, "How's your sister doing?"

McGee let out a breath. Now that the drama had passed . . . "Pretty good. I mean, she hasn't been accused of murder lately. That's saying something."

Tony laughed and the tension in the car was gone, and Tony wondered if he could really do this relationship thing with Timothy, give him little pieces of all the things he held inside and not scare Timothy away. He had a good feeling about it all. They talked about this and that for quite a while, just enjoying each other's company. Both of them started to get really cold after a while, though, and he suggested, "Hey, maybe we should grab that blanket and stretch out in the backseat, it'll probably be warmer."

McGee immediately tensed again. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, both of us back there . . ."

Tony laughed. "I think we can handle it; we'll just have to be mature, and think about frostbite." He slapped Tim on the thigh and put his hand on the door handle. "Coming?"

McGee closed his eyes at Tony's choice of words and mumbled to himself, "Hopefully not for a long time," before opening them again and nodding to Tony. "Yeah. Let's get warm."

_to be continued . . . _


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Tony carefully got out of the car into the biting wind and quickly got in the backseat. McGee had gone to get the blanket out of the trunk and joined him a minute later. Tony had positioned himself in somewhat of a lounging position against his door with his sore leg stretched out on the seat and the other bent with his food planted on the floor. He motioned for Timothy to sit between his legs and pulled the younger man against his chest as they pulled the blanket up over them. Tony wrapped his arms around Timothy under the blanket and sighed contently once they were comfortable.

McGee chuckled and Tony chided, "Shush. There is nothing wrong with cuddling. Now Mister Best-selling Author, tell me a bedtime story."

McGee smiled. He liked this side of Tony. And more importantly, he liked cuddling, especially if it got to be with Tony. "Well, let's see what I can conjure up."

He snuggled further into Tony's embrace, trying to ignore how hot Tony's thighs were against his own, despite the freezing temperatures outside. "Let's call this the continuing adventures of Agent McGregor and Agent Tommy."

Tony smirked and leaned forward to whisper in Timothy's ear, "Today's little adventure isn't going to end up in your next book, is it?"

McGee blushed despite himself. "No, um, I wouldn't want another Landon tracking you down and trying to kill you for complicating McGregor's life."

Tony chuckled low and pressed his cheek to the side of Timothy's head. "It would certainly keep people at the office guessing."

McGee smirked. "I don't know, Tony. I think they already wonder about us." He turned his head to meet Tony's and gave him a brief peck on the lips. "Can we get on with the story?" Tony nodded quickly and McGee turned, relaxing further into Tony's arms and beginning the adventure.

"Agent McGregor and Agent Tommy had been working overly hard for the past few months, so their boss - Tibbs - suggested, in a very un-Tibbs-like gesture, that they take a vacation from work. Not just them - Officer Lisa, too. But what Tibbs didn't realize when he sent them on vacation is that McGregor and Tommy would be vacationing together - in the Bahamas."

Tony snuggled in closer, as if that were possible without being skin to skin with Timothy. "Mmmm, sun, sand, and just you and me. I could force myself. And you know, I think when we get out of this mess we really should finagle a long weekend outta Gibbs and head somewhere warm."

McGee nodded his agreement, smiling. "I could definitely handle some heat right about now. Not to mention cute cabana boys..." He snuck a look back at Tony to gauge his reaction, found him glaring, and smirked, continuing. "Though there's only one cabana boy I'm interested in serving me."

Tony squirmed a bit as the mental image of him kneeling in the sand in front of Timothy with the waves lapping at his feet flashed in his mind and instantly brought back the erection he had been trying to will away. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. "Now see, for the record, I was being good. Then you had to go and say something like that."

McGee chuckled. He could certainly _feel_ Tony's reaction to that statement. He tried to keep his own "reaction" at bay as he started on the story again. "So, Tommy and McGregor arrive on the island - their island." Tony raised an eyebrow and McGee continued. "You see, McGregor was smart. He called in some favors, and this island they were visiting was truly deserted." He paused, not continuing until he felt Tony press harder into him, eager for the next twist. "Leaving the two with plenty of open space to do whatever their little hearts desired."

Tony dropped his head down on Timothy's shoulder in surrender and mumbled, "Who would have thought that underneath that choir boy image that you are truly evil, Timothy." But deciding that two could play at that game he pressed himself even closer, enjoying the friction and the feel of Timothy's ass pressing up against him, and he teased, "Now how am I supposed to sleep like this, Timothy? You were supposed to be telling me a bedtime story; not the the first installment of Tony and Timothy's Sexual Exploits."

McGee let out a soft laugh. "Sorry. I guess my mind keeps wandering. It's kinda hard not to imagine what would happen if we really were trapped on a desert island . . ."

As he finished talking, he noticed a heavy feeling on his shoulder and twisted his head to look. Tony had fallen asleep. He smirked to himself and adjusted the dozing man behind him into a more upright position, then settled himself into his arms, telling himself he wasn't going to lose consciousness...

_to be continued . . . _


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four **_(aka get ready for the crack!fic portion of the fic . . .)_

Tony awoke to something tickling his nose gently. Not really wanting to wake all the way up as he was warm and comfortable, he kept his eyes closed and tried twitching his nose to get rid of the tickle. The faint hint of shampoo and cologne was wafted to his nose by the same breeze that was blowing Timothy's hair towards him and tickling his nose. Not thinking, he reached up and gently smoothed down the hair and nestled in closer to Timothy, enjoying the weight and feel of him lying back against his chest.

A moment later the breeze was back, along with the tickle, and Tony begrudgingly opened his eyes. What he saw made him blink twice then squeeze his eyes shut tightly for a moment, willing the hallucination to go away. When he opened them again to still see the sun gently peeking over horizon, bathing the ocean and sand stretched out before them in the pale morning light, his voice jumped three octaves into the panic zone. "Timothy, wake up. You really need to wake up, Probie."

McGee snuggled into Tony a bit, mumbling something that sounded like, "Go away, Mom," and Tony shook him again, causing him to crack open an eyelid and glare. "What?"

Tony pointed to the blazing sun, and McGee turned over, eyes adjusting to the new environment. He became panicked himself as he turned back to Tony. "What the . . ."

"The hell if I know. Weren't we just in the car?" Tony shook his head, trying to dislodge the hallucination before him.

McGee yawned, trying to make sense of the situation. "Yeah . . ." He continued to browse the island, and stood, offering a hand to Tony, who took it and hopped to his feet, albeit slowly. McGee gave him a sympathetic look. "Well, looks like not everything is all fine and dandy - your knee's still out."

"It's better but still sore." Tony tested it, putting some weight on it gingerly. He looked around, trying to sort out why exactly they were suddenly in the middle of paradise, when a dark thought hit him. "Oh god, you don't think we're dead, do you?"

McGee's eyes widened. "Dead? As in, dead. As in, not alive." He paused. "We can't be. I don't remember . . . dying."

Tony flailed his arms around helplessly. "Then how do you explain all this, Timothy?" He started hobbling down the beach to check for signs of other people, when he spotted something nestled out of sun protected by palm trees - a little beach hut. He gestured for McGee to follow him and he headed for it.

McGee jogged slowly behind the limping Tony, squinting at the shack. They reached it and entered cautiously, as if expecting God or Satan to pop out and confirm their suspicion that, yes, they were indeed dead.

No spirits exited when they entered, but McGee did find a sign that something was amiss. He wandered over to the far side of the hut and picked something up. "How did these get here?"

Tony simply stared at the backpack in McGee's hand - _his_ backpack.

Tony stood riveted to the spot, just staring at the backpack. It took a moment for him to focus his attention a little further back to the bed on which the backpacks were sitting. His eyes grew huge as he took in the large expanse of mattress. His voice was full of awe and an enormous smile crossed his face as he stepped forward and ran a hand over the foot of the bed. "I just _knew_ they had to make a king-sized Ferrari bed. Ha!"

McGee rolled his eyes and set the backpack down. "Can we focus, Tony? We're stuck on some desert island, with our backpacks, and now there's this weird car bed in this convenient little shanty. Something about this whole thing just doesn't add up to me."

Tony was already in motion, however, and flopped in the middle of the bed, looking up at Timothy with puppy dog eyes as he stroked the sheets lovingly. "It's a Ferrari bed with twelve hundred count sheets. If there's lube in that nightstand over there, about a dozen of my favorite sexual fantasies are about to come true, Timothy."

At McGee's answering glare of exasperation, Tony sighed. "You're right. I know you're right. But I'm trying really, _really_ hard not to freak out. So what do we do now? Any ideas?"

McGee tried really hard to think of something, a reason for this, a way they could get off the island, but nothing came to him. He sighed, then looked over at Tony. Damn. He _really_ wanted him.

He bit his lip and spoke. "Well, you _did_ say those were the conditions for our first time . . ."

Tony blinked and gulped hard. It was one thing to tease and let his mouth run over but it was entirely different to see that _hungry_ look on Timothy's face. The one that said that someone was getting nailed to the mattress and somehow Tony didn't think that it was going to be Timothy. He looked down at the sheet a little sheepishly, plucking at it unconsciously. "Um, you know, we, ah, never really finished that whole probie, prober conversation earlier." He looked up cautiously.

McGee smirked at Tony. _Time to get a little, let's say, out of character,_ he thought. He slowly progressed towards Tony, causing him to slink further back on the bed. His smirk grew bigger.

"Why talk about it when we can just act?" he asked, a hint of alpha male creeping into his words. "Or are you scared?"

"Well, I wouldn't say "scared" exactly, Timothy, but maybe, you know, excited, maybe a little nervous." At Timothy's disbelieving raised eyebrow he admitted, "Or maybe just petrified. There honestly aren't a whole lot of things I haven't tried in bed, but this," he gulped, "is top of the list. You're not nervous?"

McGee shrugged. Yeah, he was nervous - just as petrified as Tony - but he wasn't about to let him see that. He wanted to be the one in control of everything for once. Usually that was Tony's job. So he played the part of calm and collected and said . . .

"Absolutely, positively, ready to piss my pants scared to death."

The smile that crossed Tony's face was brighter than the lights of Las Vegas and McGee could visibly see the tension leave Tony's body. With a suggestive wag of his eyebrows, Tony teased, "Well, now that we've got that out of the way, you gonna stand there all day, Timothy, or are you going to come over here and kiss me?"

McGee closed his eyes and sighed, smiling. "Yeah. I think I can do that part just fine."

He closed the distance between himself and Tony, kneeling gently on the bed and leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. Tony snaked a arm around his shoulders, and soon McGee felt himself being drawn down into his partner, their bodies grinding together, and he knew if he wasn't careful, he'd explode right in his pants. That was completely out of the question.

He pulled away from Tony briefly. "I'm ready, Tony." The next words that popped into his mind sounded so incredibly bad, like something from one of those cheesy action flicks Tony liked to watch, but it was so damn appropriate.

"Make me a man."

Tony pulled back and looked at McGee in mock horror, then snorted and burst out laughing, "You did _not_ just say that, Timothy." The instigator lying on top of him just threw him a little lopsided grin that made Tony chuckle even more. "Okay wise-guy, we've got way too many clothes on for this."

McGee took that as his cue to unzip his jeans and peel them off, then remove his shirt. He looked up from his actions to find Tony had done the same, and his breath caught. They were going to do this.

_to be continued . . . _


	5. Chapter 5 sorta

Alright, chapter 5.

Unfortunately, I can't post the actual content of this chapter to as it is VERY sexually graphic. That said, you can read it on my author board on NCIS Fanfiction Addiction (which can be found by searching "NCIS Fanfiction Addiction" in any search engine; it should be the first site listed), under the thread dedicated to You're My Probie. The author board is listed under the same name as here, Smackalicious. Feel free to leave comments there if you're a member or here if you're not. But please feel free to register on that site, as well - it's a great forum!

It will also be posted to Livejournal at some point (not sure when, but I'll get around to it), so you will also be able to read it there.

Sorry for the long wait; CJ and I are currently writing the next and FINAL chapter of the story, and it may be a bit before it is completed. I will update as soon as it's finished, though!

Thanks for all the interest, guys!


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: There's a bit of, ahem, sexual activity towards the end of this, just so everyone is warned in advance. It's a very short part of the story, and we really NEEDED to post this chapter here. So, without further ado . . ._

**Chapter Six**

Both men snuggled together even closer and drifted off to a contented sleep.

McGee waved his hand drunkenly, trying to stop the noisemaker from, well, making noise. He was trying to sleep! And it was post-coital blissful sleep – only the best kind to exist.

When the noise only grew louder in nature, he pried open an aggravated eye and peeked out, expecting to find a palm tree laden with coconuts swaying in the breeze. What he saw, however, defied all explanation. He opened his eyes the rest of the way and shook Tony. "Tony, wake up. You gotta see this."

Before Tony had even cracked an eye open, he realized he was cold. Well, cold where Timothy's body wasn't pressed up against his. He opened his eyes lazily, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep and recharge for a second round with Timothy, and a third and a fourth . . . But Timothy's tone alerted him that there was something wrong. And when he finally opened his eyes all the way and forced them to focus, the first words out of his mouth were, "What the hell? Weren't we just . . ." He didn't even finish the sentence, figuring that Timothy would think he was nuts.

Their island paradise was gone and they were back in the cold car still stuck in a ditch. The first pink light of morning was peeking through the window, accented by the strong beam of a rescue worker's flashlight. The same rescue worker that was impatiently knocking on the window.

Timothy had scrambled to the other side of the rear seat, trying to give some semblance of propriety to their rescuers. Tony tried to force his stiff body to move and found that his knee was still on the injured list. But as he tried to get himself in some form of order, he noticed something mortifying. His boxers were sticking to him, in a cold clammy way that could only mean one thing. Tony just prayed that Timothy had slept through whatever embarrassing thing he had done in his sleep.

"Tony, what happened?" McGee hissed, trying to make some sense out of the island . . . and now being in the backseat of . . . "That was just a dream, wasn't it?"

"Define 'that', Timothy. Because I'm starting to wonder if I hit my head somewhere along the way."

A deep blush spread its way across McGee's face. That . . . _dream_, if that's what they were calling it, had been _very_ graphic and, oh _shit_ . . .

"I need to get out of here so I can change my pants," McGee muttered, closing his eyes in embarrassment.

Tony's head whipped around and he squinted in disbelief at Timothy. "That makes two of us. But I don't understand. Weren't we just on an island?" The insistent tapping on the window was making him crazy and he indicated to their would-be-rescuer that they needed a minute.

McGee narrowed his eyes and turned his gaze to the floor, thinking. "I clearly remember palm trees and sand and the ocean and . . ." He looked up at Tony. "You're telling me I'm not the only one who . . . _imagined_ this? But how is that possible?"

Tony's voice went up an octave, indicating his stress. "How should I freakin' know? But we'd better get our story straight in the next thirty seconds or else they're going to lock us up in a little padded room and throw away the key, Timothy."

McGee nodded quickly, his analytical brain churning out possibility after possibility. His mind was a machine – he surely could think of a way out of this. "Well, we could just . . . uh, tell them . . ." He sighed, looking forlornly at Tony. "I don't know, Tony. This is just . . . impossible! We can't tell them what _really_ happened, obviously."

Tony took charge, his instinct for self-preservation kicking in. "Okay, we crashed, we fell asleep, we had to share the one blanket . . . No, wait, scratch that, they don't need to know that. Okay, we crashed, we fell asleep, they found us. End of story. At least officially. Unofficially I think you and I have a date to talk about this later and figure out what the hell happened."

McGee's lip twitched at Tony's choice of words. "A date, huh?" He nodded to himself. "I'm thinking maybe this snowstorm wasn't such a bad thing, after all."

The rescue worker knocked again and this time Tony opened the door.

It took half the day, but eventually the car was pulled out of the ditch and towed back to the NCIS lot. It had been a cramped, uncomfortable ride back and Tony's knee was screaming at him and threatening to buckle. It finally did in the elevator and he had to lean on Timothy. He could see that Timothy had been trying to sort out what had happened in that ginormous CPU that was his brain, the little frown telling Tony that he still hadn't made any sense out of it. Casually, while trying not to fall, he reached over and flipped the emergency switch on the panel. Timothy had barely flinched and didn't meet Tony's eyes. With his one arm still around Timothy's shoulder holding himself up, he used the other to gently tug on Timothy's chin to meet his eyes. Gently he said, "Everything is going to be alright, Timothy. We'll figure it out. We'll figure _us_ out. I promise." Softly, he pressed his mouth to Timothy's to seal the promise. The gentleness of the kiss lasted only a moment before Timothy's other hand gripped the back of Tony's head and he turned the kiss into something hungry.

McGee brought his hand down to rest on Tony's chest, willing it to not trail any further down his partner's body, because if it did, well, the need to change his boxers would be even more pressing. His tongue dipped inside Tony's mouth for a moment, exploring the hot wetness therein, and just when he was really getting into the kiss, Tony pulled away gently.

McGee gave him a look of confusion. "Tony? What's wrong? Did I do something . . ."

Tony smiled, that playful little imp smile that could melt an iceberg. "No, we just can't do this here." He reached over to the switch and asked, "Ready?"

McGee tried to keep the disappointment from showing on his face. "Yeah, let's get back to the squadroom."

Tony flipped the switch with a wink and gave Timothy one more quick peck on the lips. "You realize Ducky's going to yell at me for not going to the emergency room?"

McGee suddenly grew worried, almost as if he had just remembered where they had come from. "Tony, we gotta get you to the hospital! Your knee! And you've had the plague . . ." He trailed off, his face wrought with concern.

"I'm fine. Honest. I'll have Ducky take a look at my knee and see if he thinks it warrants a trip to the ER or if I just need some drugs and an Ace bandage."

They reached their floor and as the doors opened Tony teased, "Showtime. Ready to go back to being _my_ probie?"

McGee managed a tiny smile. "I'll be waiting for the pranks, Tony."

The tale of their rescue was shared around the bullpen, and Tony turned it into the life or death situation of the year. Gibbs had finally had enough of the increasingly tall tale and sent them down to have Ducky check them over, especially Tony's knee.

Ducky poked and prodded and tsk-tsked over them both, and ultimately sent them on their way, giving Tony strict instructions to stay off his leg for the next couple of days and no driving. A spare pair of crutches that Ducky had stashed away in the supply room were dug out and adjusted for Tony.

When Ducky's back was turned away, Tony winked at Timothy and asked, "So Probie, think I can mooch a ride home?"

McGee smirked. "That depends – you're not gonna have me stopping at every fast food joint along the way, are you?"

Tony grinned. "I'll limit myself to three, how's that sound?"

McGee shook his head. "Come on. We better get out of here before Gibbs asks for our case reports." He walked over to where Tony was standing, watching as his dream lover struggled to his feet and nearly fell over. He quickly grabbed for Tony's arm, helping him stand, then walked him to the elevator.

---------------

By the time they reached the living room of Tony's apartment, Tony was ready to throw the crutches out the window. He had forgotten how much of a hassle they truly were. He shucked his overcoat and collapsed gingerly on the couch. He caught Timothy's face, masked with concern and tried to smile. "Hey."

McGee gave him a small smile. "You gonna be able to handle yourself tonight, or do you need me to stick around, you know, nurse you back to health?"

"I'm fine, don't need a babysitter. But I want you to stay. I think we need to talk about . . . things." Tony's thoughts flickered to the soiled pants now rolled up in his knapsack that needed to hit the laundry hamper; the past twenty-four hours had been more than weird.

McGee frowned. Tony's tone of voice worried him. "Um, okay." He nodded. "I think I get it, Tony."

Tony caught the nervous twitter in Timothy's voice and realized that Timothy probably thought that Tony was regretting things or was going to tell him that it was all a mistake. Seeing Timothy's chin practically on his chest, Tony did the mature thing and chucked a throw pillow at him. "You _think_ you get it? What I think is that you need to come over here and kiss me, then we'll eat that pizza you're holding and figure out exactly how we went from being stuck in a blizzard to having mind-blowing sex on a tropical island to being stuck back in the blizzard. Cause not for nothing, that confused me a little." He gave the cushion on the couch next to him a little pat and curled a finger at Timothy, gesturing for him to sit down.

A smile crossed McGee's face as he slid over next to Tony and tried to stifle the relief he felt upon hearing Tony's words. There was no real reason for him to be so worried about Tony backing out of this, but the thought kept crossing his mind.

He did as Tony asked and gave him a small kiss before stating, "Yeah, that whole desert island thing was pretty raunchy, huh?"

Not satisfied with just that little peck, Tony took Timothy's face in his hands and made a much more thorough job of it. When he paused for the briefest of moments, he teased, "It was a little fuzzy, but it's all coming back to me now. I think we need to re-enact each step just to be sure we're really remembering the same thing." He didn't let Timothy answer, just went back to trying to map his mouth with his tongue, while his hands were scrambling at the buttons of Timothy's shirt.

"Mmm, Tony," McGee mumbled into Tony's mouth. The other man reluctantly pulled away, just enough to look into his eyes. "You sure you're gonna be up to that? Because from what I remember, well, your leg's gonna be in a whole hell of a lot of pain if we recreate the scene."

Tony reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a bottle of pills, and shaking it for effect, he teased, "I got the good stuff, trust me, the leg will be fine. It'll be other parts of me in pain if we don't recreate the scene."

McGee chuckled. "I thought you wanted to talk?" he teased.

Tony leaned in and nipped Timothy's bottom lip playfully. "I vote for raunchy re-creation now, pillow talk after." He emphasized his intentions by placing a row of feathery kisses from Timothy's mouth to his earlobe, which also got a playful nibble just before Tony whispered in it, "What's your vote?"

McGee's eyes fell happily closed at Tony's ministrations. "Mmm, I don't think I can make any decisions at the moment. I guess I'll just have to have _you_ decide what we do."

Tony let out a wicked little chuckle and a moment later Timothy found himself sprawled on top of Tony, their groins pressing together with delicious friction. Tony reclaimed Timothy's mouth and his hands were squirreling away under Timothy's t-shirt to knead and claw at his back.

"Aw, shit," McGee muttered, not out of dismay, but in pleasure. He brought his hands up to run through Tony's hair, kissing him fervently. He hadn't realized how horny he actually was until Tony started kissing him, not to mention the feeling of his crotch pressed against Tony's.

He briefly removed his lips from Tony's, long enough to announce, "I think it's time we take this into the bedroom, wouldn't you say?"

Tony sighed blissfully. "Mmmm . . . okay, talked me right into it."

Timothy reluctantly stood up and helped Tony to his feet, and soon they had made their way to Tony's bedroom. Standing in the doorway, Timothy paused, just staring at the bed. Tony leaned in and sucked Timothy's earlobe into his mouth playfully for a second before chuckling and breathing into Timothy's ear, "That reminds me, you are SO buying me a king-sized Ferrari bed for my birthday."

McGee dipped his head, laughing softly at Tony's antics. "Maybe I'll have to have Agent Tommy receive a present from McGregor in my next book. Something like," he shrugged, "a full-sized Corvette bed."

He noticed the lack of reaction from his partner and turned to face him, noticing Tony had frozen in his spot. "Tony. Relax. I'm just joking." Tony visibly let his body go slack, and McGee pulled him into him, nibbling on his ear and whispering, "The only present I'll have McGregor give Tommy is himself."

"I like that idea," Tony said huskily, his desire evident in his voice. He wasn't sure if he did it or if Timothy did it, but somehow they finally ended up stretched out side-by-side on the bed, making out like two teenagers. Tony felt one of Timothy's hands working the zipper on his pants and the next thing he knew his growing erection was gently caressed. "Oh, god, that feels so good . . ."

---------------

Tony was moaning and writhing on the bed in his sleep, apparently in the midst of an extremely erotic dream, tossing and turning, his body trying to find some bit of friction to rub his engorged member against. His bed partner had been awoken by the mewing and looking at Tony so completely turned on, had also gotten very aroused. And being in a playful, frisky mood, Gibbs simply reached over and encased Tony's aching erection in a steely fist.

Tony immediately arched into that tight grip, and as Gibbs skillfully worked him, Tony's moans of pleasure got louder. Gibbs knew that Tony was close, his balls up high and tight against his body, and sure enough, after one particularly tight squeeze, Tony was coming in his hand. Tony's moans had reached a peak just before he came, but the gentle, "Timothy," that he breathed out as he came caught Gibbs completely by surprise.

"What the hell was that?" a husky voice sounded from Gibbs' backside. He turned to look at Abby, who was looking at the two of them with half-lidded sleepy eyes. She rested her head on Gibbs' shoulder and focused her eyes on the still-sleeping Tony. "Did I just hear him say . . ." Gibbs nodded and she giggled. "Well, now I know what we can get him for his next birthday."

---------------

They all had their morning routines, but all of three of them congregated around the coffee pot before starting them. Tony kept looking between his lovers, both of them looking a little like the cat that ate the canary. But he wasn't overly concerned. That look typically meant that Abby had learned something new that she had tried on Gibbs first and he had apparently liked it. Tony knew his turn would come.

Tony sipped his coffee and Gibbs teased, "We're getting you your own blanket, Tony. You kept kicking them off last night and then stealing all of them."

Tony looked a little sheepish. "Sorry, guys. Not used to sharing." He sipped more coffee and wondered if the blankets were the cause of his weird dream last night, going from warm to cold to hot to cold to warm again. That had to be it, it was the blankets. Because if it wasn't the blankets, then he had a big problem, a problem named Timothy.

Abby was sipping her own coffee, and teased with a little angelic smile, "So, Tony, that was some dream you were having, wanna share with the rest of us?"

Tony looked her dead in the eye and knew that somehow they knew, and that there was a double edge to Abby's words.

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**The End . . . for now.**


End file.
